I look back fondly on the old days, and by the old days I am referring to last week, or even the week before, when Blob and I would curl up on the sofa and enjoy a Kebab or Chicken Curry together.
I'll be honest, I don't think she knew that we were sharing (I am very discreet)!
Anyway Blob has decided to go on something called a 'Diet'. I am unsure why but the day she explains anything to me will be a frosty one in Helheim.
I would suggest that she eats the processed muck she gives me and allows me to eat chicken curry and kebabs, but evidently this is not a likely outcome.
She has decided upon something called the Cambridge Diet, although I think the word diet is wrong. Diet would suggest that she eats small and healthy meals (like the processed muck she gives me). What she is actually doing is eating nothing for a few weeks, and just consuming soups and shakes.
OK, so its nothing to do with me, and as long as i get fed regularly, I don't care - but i don't see why we should stop the sharing thing. Sharing is what we do. So why, when she left her soup in the living room when she went to get a glass of water was she so upset when she came back to find me 'sharing it'.
It was Cheese and Broccoli - mmmmmmmm!
I only had a few licks before she shouted but it was very good. So good in fact that i managed to get my paw in it when she reached for the remote control!
Not sure that Blob is liking the diet though - she didn't drink too much more of it after she found a hair in her mouth. (Dunno how that got there!)
But thats Big Pink Blobs for you.
Bob.
Wednesday 29 April 2009
Monday 27 April 2009
It wasn't me!
It wasn't me, I didn't do it. Blobs fish have had a few internal struggles, and ultimately, two of them are no more.
I had nothing to do with their demise.
I gather from listening in on her perpetual moaning that only one of them was a bit sick, but then suddenly the little golden one she refers to as "Hugo" appeared to be not only hurrying on the death of the slightly wobbly one known as Eczema, but undertaking a systematic bashing of the cute white one called Celestine, until they both lay dead upon the surface of the water.
What really rankles is that she didn't let me eat them. They may not have been moving about and being sparkly and attractive, but that didn't matter. I could have made them dance like angels before I had my first taste of Sushi.
All she did was pick them out of the water and put them in the bin. What a damned waste of perfectly good food.
She spends all this time and effort in planting home grown produce in the back garden, but she doesn't see the potential of cutting down on my food bills by giving me the dead fish.
Stupid Blob!
Mind you, this Hugo fellow - I rather like the cut of his gib. Nothing better than a fellow creature with murderous territorial tendencies. I shall be keeping a close eye on that fish tank from now on (well more of an eye than I was keeping before hand - which was a fairly close eye to be honest).
I had nothing to do with their demise.
I gather from listening in on her perpetual moaning that only one of them was a bit sick, but then suddenly the little golden one she refers to as "Hugo" appeared to be not only hurrying on the death of the slightly wobbly one known as Eczema, but undertaking a systematic bashing of the cute white one called Celestine, until they both lay dead upon the surface of the water.
What really rankles is that she didn't let me eat them. They may not have been moving about and being sparkly and attractive, but that didn't matter. I could have made them dance like angels before I had my first taste of Sushi.
All she did was pick them out of the water and put them in the bin. What a damned waste of perfectly good food.
She spends all this time and effort in planting home grown produce in the back garden, but she doesn't see the potential of cutting down on my food bills by giving me the dead fish.
Stupid Blob!
Mind you, this Hugo fellow - I rather like the cut of his gib. Nothing better than a fellow creature with murderous territorial tendencies. I shall be keeping a close eye on that fish tank from now on (well more of an eye than I was keeping before hand - which was a fairly close eye to be honest).
Monday 20 April 2009
Feeling Better
Its ok. Despite Blobs neglect, I made the night and am feeling like a little breakfast today!
Bob
Bob
I may not make the night!
Blob is useless. Statement of Fact as opposed to a whinge. She is point blank rubbish and if for one moment I thought I was going to survive the night i'd make plans to move out - but seeing as I am injured and bleeding and unlikely to go on for much longer, I'd rather lumber her with the funeral expenses.
Very early this morning i got home, i managed to drag myself through the cat flap, and then upstairs to bed. I was hurt and soggy and had to yell very loudly to wake up the lazy pink creature who was dead to the world.
At long last the light goes on and her face pops over the edge of the bed and after a modicum of concern where she squints hard at me and says "Oh dear, you have been in the wars", she then turns off the light and rolls over and says "Don't get too much blood on sheets!"
I eventually got myself on the bed and curled up on a pillow (She said nothing about blood on pillows.) And then I sulked for the rest of the night. Too sore to sleep, too sore to move, and big pink blob just snores gently next to me.
Eventually, when it gets light, she opens her eyes and starts to prod me.
"Where does it hurt?" she says. I hiss and yell and she says "Have you been fighting?"
"No shit Sherlock - course i've been fighting. It was big and it mugged me and i was fighting for my very life."
"I'll leave you to rest then" she says and then gets up and goes downstairs.
Although I would usually join her because this guarantees my breakfast, i decided to be really really ill and stay in bed so she would come up and look after me and give me food.
I waited for ages and the unfeeling cow never came. It was gone 11 when I eventually limped downstairs, and then just had the usual pouch of processed goo bunged at me.
Then I tried to sit on her for a little love and affection, and all she does is poke the sore bits and say patronising things like "Tell me who did it and I'll get them", and "Does it hurt if i poke here?".
In a fit of pique I went to bed early because I am really not good, and wanted to make sure I could get on the bed prior to my legs collapsing under me on a permament basis.
So here I am probably breathing my last, waiting for the blob to come and mop my patchy brow (lost quite a bit of hair in the brow region), and lets face it i could be waiting for ever because she's down stairs playing on the computer.
If I don't manage to survive the night, then it's been fun.
Bob
Very early this morning i got home, i managed to drag myself through the cat flap, and then upstairs to bed. I was hurt and soggy and had to yell very loudly to wake up the lazy pink creature who was dead to the world.
At long last the light goes on and her face pops over the edge of the bed and after a modicum of concern where she squints hard at me and says "Oh dear, you have been in the wars", she then turns off the light and rolls over and says "Don't get too much blood on sheets!"
I eventually got myself on the bed and curled up on a pillow (She said nothing about blood on pillows.) And then I sulked for the rest of the night. Too sore to sleep, too sore to move, and big pink blob just snores gently next to me.
Eventually, when it gets light, she opens her eyes and starts to prod me.
"Where does it hurt?" she says. I hiss and yell and she says "Have you been fighting?"
"No shit Sherlock - course i've been fighting. It was big and it mugged me and i was fighting for my very life."
"I'll leave you to rest then" she says and then gets up and goes downstairs.
Although I would usually join her because this guarantees my breakfast, i decided to be really really ill and stay in bed so she would come up and look after me and give me food.
I waited for ages and the unfeeling cow never came. It was gone 11 when I eventually limped downstairs, and then just had the usual pouch of processed goo bunged at me.
Then I tried to sit on her for a little love and affection, and all she does is poke the sore bits and say patronising things like "Tell me who did it and I'll get them", and "Does it hurt if i poke here?".
In a fit of pique I went to bed early because I am really not good, and wanted to make sure I could get on the bed prior to my legs collapsing under me on a permament basis.
So here I am probably breathing my last, waiting for the blob to come and mop my patchy brow (lost quite a bit of hair in the brow region), and lets face it i could be waiting for ever because she's down stairs playing on the computer.
If I don't manage to survive the night, then it's been fun.
Bob
Wednesday 15 April 2009
It's all got a bit fishy!
Things are back to normal and life is good.
Kitchen finished, regular meals, clean sheets! What more could a cat ask for?
But ... and this is a very big "BUT", I came in from an afternoons foraging/sleeping to discover large plastic thing full of water on the new work surface. I assumed obviously, that this was some kind of modern art sculpture that she had got in to finish off the kitchen.
I told the Blob that this was dangerous, considering how much she had paid for her work surfaces, but she completely ignored me. It also had a motor running and bubbles and to be honest was not any kind of art that I would have chosen, but since when did i ever have a say in what the place looks like.
But a few days later and "HELLO - Whats this?!" little fishy things were swimming around in the sculpture, all pretty and fluttery and moving and shiny and soooooo pretty! Then it all came clear. The big pink blob had bought me a present. She had got me pretty, flappy, shiny fishes for me to play with.
However, we have a problem. I am not keen on the water, or the motor, or the bubbles and if I am to get close to the pretty, shiny, wiggly things I have to get close to all three.
I thought perhaps it was a test. I was to overcome my fears and face the water, the bubbles and the motor in order to get the prize, but sadly not so!
The minute I started to sit under the tank and yell, it was made patently clear that I apparently am not allowed the flappy, shiny, fishy things. They belong to the Blob. And she isn't going to play, torture and eat them - oh no - she has given them names and feeds them every day (sometimes before she feeds me)!
So normality lasted for a couple of days and now its all gone hopelessly wrong.
For anyone that is interested, she has called the pretty shiny white one "Celestine", the dapper, flappy orange one "Hugo", and the wiggly, swimmy, spotty one "Eczema".
Stupid names!
Stupid fish!
Stupid Blob!
Yours fishily
Bob.
Kitchen finished, regular meals, clean sheets! What more could a cat ask for?
But ... and this is a very big "BUT", I came in from an afternoons foraging/sleeping to discover large plastic thing full of water on the new work surface. I assumed obviously, that this was some kind of modern art sculpture that she had got in to finish off the kitchen.
I told the Blob that this was dangerous, considering how much she had paid for her work surfaces, but she completely ignored me. It also had a motor running and bubbles and to be honest was not any kind of art that I would have chosen, but since when did i ever have a say in what the place looks like.
But a few days later and "HELLO - Whats this?!" little fishy things were swimming around in the sculpture, all pretty and fluttery and moving and shiny and soooooo pretty! Then it all came clear. The big pink blob had bought me a present. She had got me pretty, flappy, shiny fishes for me to play with.
However, we have a problem. I am not keen on the water, or the motor, or the bubbles and if I am to get close to the pretty, shiny, wiggly things I have to get close to all three.
I thought perhaps it was a test. I was to overcome my fears and face the water, the bubbles and the motor in order to get the prize, but sadly not so!
The minute I started to sit under the tank and yell, it was made patently clear that I apparently am not allowed the flappy, shiny, fishy things. They belong to the Blob. And she isn't going to play, torture and eat them - oh no - she has given them names and feeds them every day (sometimes before she feeds me)!
So normality lasted for a couple of days and now its all gone hopelessly wrong.
For anyone that is interested, she has called the pretty shiny white one "Celestine", the dapper, flappy orange one "Hugo", and the wiggly, swimmy, spotty one "Eczema".
Stupid names!
Stupid fish!
Stupid Blob!
Yours fishily
Bob.
They think its all over ...
It's finished!
At long long last the food preparation area is finished. Little bit of dust left, bit of grout to clean off, bit of sealant to bung around the place, but ultimately the tooing and froing, the banging and crashing and the mess and noise has finally ended.
I now get to eat in peace, with my bowl put in the same place every day - what luxury.
I also get dust free meals and have not found toe prints in my food bowl for days now.
Heres a picture or two of the kitchen.
The blob is very proud of it. And I have to admit its quite good for a human. She did the tiling herself and was smiling inanely at it for hours once she had finished. She even decided to pick me up and show me the tiles up close. Gosh that was exciting - Not! (Ever had your face pushed up close and personal to a Red Tile and asked for your opinion?)
And now whilst i am curled up on the sofa, i can hear things getting back to normal as the Blob sits here and shouts disgustedly at the tv whilst some advert features a young child wanting to 'have a poo'.
Aaaahhhh bliss!
Bob
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